• Closed • Stealing A Statue

[Yanahalqah]

Yana took her time to observe the Lord and his doppelganger, wanting to be absolutely sure that they were still in the green. Both were fussing about the cat, which was great. The pet also did not seem to be very willing to let itself be helped, which would likely give Yana and her accomplice some extra time to search the room. However, there was no statue in the room, which did make sense. She suspected the sculpture was kept in Tristan's atelier or so, but where she could find that room was a mystery. If she could she would have studied the layout of his house, but none of her clients had had any maps of the residence to their disposal, nor were they too familiar with the place. What she did find was a window that she though large enough to transport the statue through. Carrying the thing all the way to the back door was just asking for trouble.

Her accomplice beckoned, having combed the chamber as well. He was moving to the next room, and Yana followed, taking care to tread as carefully and quietly as she could. This time it seemed they had hit the jackpot, entering a large room filled with statues –some finished, others only halfway done-- and sculpting tools. There were other artsy supplies stored as well. Several paintings stood drying on easels, and all kinds of brushes were soaking in a cup on a desk. There were aprons with colorful stains hanging from a peg, as well as a pair of sturdy looking gloves. Without a doubt they had reached the sculpting workshop of the Venora Lord.

The Yludih glanced at her temporary aide, then nodded towards the easily identifiable sculpting she had come to steal. While she had heard it described before, this work of art was better crafted and masculine than she had expected. Also naked. Well, technically he was wearing a cloak and helmet, but that could hardly be called clothed. The statue stood proudly, displaying its well defined muscles and privates in a strangely dignified yet arrogant manner. Yana couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

Well, at least her client would be extremely pleased when she saw the sculpture arrive at her home. If Yana succeeded in bringing it there safely, that is.

“Grab the feet,” she commanded her aide, preparing to lift the head herself. Her arms strained under the weight, back bent slightly. “Let's move. Head to the window in the bedroom.” And then she started to move, trying not to walk too quickly so they did not accidentally drop it. Though it was a bother and heavy, they needed to be careful not to be too loud when transporting the statue. Haste made waste after all.

[Quio]

Well, at least they had found the thing. Now they just had to figure out how to move it.

The last time Quio had seen the statue Faith had wheeled it out on some sort of trolley, but before he could look around to find it --and besides, what if the wheels creaked?-- the merc was already grabbing the naked Lord Peake Andaris by the head and ordering Quio to take the other half. Shrugging, the Yludih bent and snatched at the base of the statue.

The Lord's feet were placed on some sort of podium, no doubt serving as a counterbalance to keep it upright when it stood, and Quio wrapped his arms around that and lifted, trying not to make any sound of exertion as he pulled up. As he did so he was eternally grateful that the statue was only half-sized, otherwise there would have been no way he could have hefted it.

As it was, it was a close thing. The merc had taken the lighter half of the statue, and before they began to carry it Quio had to shift on his feet, trying to find the best way to hold it so he wouldn't drop the damn thing. It didn't help that he still hurt from yesterday's beating. Finally, though, he grunted and nodded his head at the woman, and together they started heaving the statue back into the other room.

But immortals, she wanted to transport it through the window? It looked like it would fit... but lifting it up that high was a whole 'nother story.

They had to momentarily set the statue back down to pry the window open --please don't let the hinges squeak-- and then Quio motioned that the woman should go out first. Once the mercenary was outside, he'd have to lift the statue by himself and angle it out so she could grab it. The woman would then have to take the brunt of its weight in her arms to set the thing back safely on the ground. Then Quio would have to follow out the window himself, and then they could take the statue, well... wherever it was that it had to go.

At least the job was almost over. He consoled himself with that.

---

Out in the living room Hart had moved his hand back before the cat --Mistral-- could bite or scratch or otherwise maim. While Tristan unwound the animal from its confines, Hart sat back on his heels, listening.

"A wedding on the beach would be pretty," he admitted, picturing it, and then said, "And I would love to meet the rest of your family someday, András included. Maybe talk to your father as well? And you mentioned before that you have a brother? Did you know I had a sister, once?"

Our family, he thought as he spoke, testing the idea. Our father. Our brother. How strange it might be to meet family he had never known he'd had. Other siblings. He didn't know exactly how he felt about the prospect, if he was to be honest.

At the cat's angry hiss and Tristan's translation, the doppelganger laughed, "Nice to meet you too, Mistral."

And then Tristan said, “Maybe he dragged it into the bedroom while we weren’t looking?” and Hart was glad the other was searching around the floor because if he had seen Hart's face in that moment it might have given them all away. He quickly schooled his features back.

"Okay," he said when Tristan looked up again, counting on his fingers, "Bedroom, Faith's room, cupboard. Anywhere else he might have gone?" He took a shot in the dark, sounding anxious about the prospect. "He's not an outdoors cat, is he? If he took the necklace outside... there could be no telling where it might be." He paused.

"Tell you what. I'll do a quick look-through of your room-- the necklace would be on or around the bed, wouldn't it? That's easy enough to check. You take the kitchen, you know your cupboards better than I would, and I've already messed up the living room... I don't want poor Faith to come home to a ravaged kitchen as well. And then maybe we could go looking around outside?"

If Tristan agreed Hart would quickly go darting into the bedroom-- in time to find Quio and the mercenary with statue in tow. He'd set to helping them quickly lift it out of the opened window before yanking the 'missing' necklace from Quio's throat and heading back out towards Tristan. "Thank the immortals I found it!" he called as he returned. "It was under your bed."

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Tristan Venora]

“You should definitely meet father!” Tristan agreed. “He should know that he has such a great son. Maybe he’ll be able to shed some light on the circumstances of your birth? His name is Noah. Noah Venora.” When he had begun to speak, the young noble had done so in a light hearted tone, but now the expression on his face was quite dark. He didn’t understand any of it! Why had his family decided to keep Hart a secret? Why had nobody ever told him that he had more brothers than just Teddy? Why …?

“I have a younger brother”, he confirmed. The mention of his favourite sibling brought a smile back to his face. “Theodore. He’s seventeen and a talented singer. And I didn’t know that you had a sister. What happened to her? Is she … is she dead?” He felt a sharp pain in his chest as he asked that. Was she – or had she been another one of his father’s bastards? What was wrong with his family? What kind of woman was Ebony Venora that she thought that tearing a family apart would be a good idea?

He might have wanted to meet his half-sister, but now he would never get the chance! For a moment he almost felt like crying, although he never cried. Fortunately it was just then that the conversation turned to Mistral again. He welcomed the distraction. It kept him from thinking any more about a sister he had not gotten to know and never would.

“Mistral goes outside quite frequently and terrorizes the other cats”, he informed Hart. “But he never takes anything with him. On the contrary, he sometimes brings me things – such as dead mice or birds.” He made a face as he said that. He normally quite appreciated gifts, but he had not found any use for dead animals so far. Once he had only found one of Mistral’s gifts after a few trials – because it had started to smell.

“Anyway, let’s do that”, he agreed and started to search the kitchen while Hart went into the bedroom. Unfortunately he didn’t find anything that even remotely looked like a necklace, although he found a few cookies that he decided he would eat later on. After the shock of finding out that he might have had a sister once he needed something sweet. And possibly a bit of alcohol.

“Really?” he asked as Hart returned from the bedroom. “That’s great. I assume you want to go back to Ruq right now?” he wanted to know, secretly hoping that it would not be the case because he wanted to spend a few more bits with his brother (and find out more about his sister).

[Yanahalqah]

Things went rather smoothly, Yana found, all things considered. Sure, the statue was heavy and moving it was not all that easy, but they managed with quick shuffling of feet, and the straining of arm and back muscles. Making use of the small trolley present in the atelier would have been easier, but Yana wasn't willing to risk squeaking wheels betraying their presence in the Lord's home. Taking great care not to bump into anything, the duo arrived at the window, where they lowered it softly onto the floor so the window could be opened. Fortunately, Tristan's slave was very competent at her job, and seemed to have oiled the hinges so they did not make any noise.

Lifting the statue through the opening was a different matter though, and while it wasn't located too high up in the wall, it proved a task that required a lot of effort. With the merc standing outside and her aide inside, both had to support the entire statue by themselves at one point, which seemed to be the weak point of the whole plan. However, the doppelganger came to the rescue, swiftly helping to get the statue safely onto the street. Well, into Yana's arms, which shook and trembled when exposed to the massive weight of the sculpture, but she somehow managed to place it down without dropping it.

Her aide soon followed through the portal, once more helping to carry the statue. Yana led the way, directing them both to a near alleyway where the cart was waiting for its load. The vehicle was wide enough to slide the sculpture into with its head and pedestal facing the sides of the cart. It made things a little less difficult, and once the thing was loaded, Yana ordered her helper to go back to his friend. She herself covered the statue with a sail, waited a bit, and moved the cart to another alley, just to be safe. When that was over and done, she too decided to head back to Tristan's house.

She entered through the kitchen door once more, noticing that a bowl of cookies that had been on the table before was gone now. Yet, despite the fact that someone had been in the kitchen to get those, she did not hear any raised voices that would indicate Tristan had noticed his window had been broken, and the door unlocked. So either the doppelganger had fetched the cookies, or Lord Venora was more oblivious than she had expected. If the latter was the case, she felt her job could have been a lot easier if she'd known beforehand. It would have eliminated the need for stealth.

Nevertheless, she walked through the house quietly, spotting Lord Venora almost immediately. It wasn't too hard to differentiate him from his doppelganger now. While the two of them looked eerily similar, the true Tristan Venora wore a different, more expensive-looking attire. He also was not as tan as his half-brother -or whatever they were to each other. Though, for one who had no knowledge of two of them existing, it wasn't too strange to mistake one for the other, she found.

The Yluidh approached, extending one hand towards the Lord, planning on placing it firmly upon his shoulder. If she succeeded, she'd clutch it, tightening her grip if he tried to shake her hand off, or if he tried to move away. She was not planning on letting him go. Her other hand was intentionally placed on the hilt of her dagger, a non-verbal threat to everyone present not to interfere. “Lord Tristan Venora,” she purred, more a mimicry of Mistral rather than any other feline. “A pleasure to meet you. I would like a word with you, we have some business to discus.”

She gave a shallow smile that never reached her eye, cold and threatening. Not warm and friendly, or kind at all. It was an indication of her plans and the nature of the business, no doubt, and both her temporary aides from before were privy to what exactly it pertained. On the smallest sign of either of them attempting anything her hand grabbed the dagger and unsheathed its blade partly, leaving no doubt to what she'd do if they went any further. She positioned herself and her hostage in such a way that she could see the both of them, and keep her eye on them. "There is no need for worry, as long as you don't give me any trouble." It was directed at all of them, another warning.

[Quio]

It went wrong. Not the part where the statue went out the window, or the part where Quio nearly leapt out of his skin when Hart came dashing into the room unexpectedly. He even managed to swing himself outside without any trouble. And once the statue was outside of the house, as were both the thieves --willing and unwilling-- it was a matter of cake to walk the naked thing through the streets to a nearby alley not unlike the one they had originally been affronted in. Though they did get some looks and titters at what they were carrying. Especially from the women on the street.

After that was when the situation finally spoiled.

Like the mercenary had said, Quio had gone back for Hart. He knocked on Tristan's front door, waiting to be let in. When Tristan answered, the Yludih gave a strained smile. More lies, but here he went. "I'm sorry for bothering you." Voice restrained, almost subdued. Then again, he was never the raucous sort. "You haven't seen Hart around, have you? Somehow I lost him on the way back-- and ever since the boat--" They both remembered the boat. What he had done there. What he had been. Quio couldn't help but look ashamed. "--well I don't feel right being away from him."

---

Hart had remained inside the house. "Noah," he'd said, memorizing the name that might have been his father's, and then his potential brother's. "Theodore. I guess art runs in the family."

At Tristan's prompting, he said of his sister, though like Tristan the happiness went out of him as he spoke, "Her name was Jovy. It's a common name for Biqaj, sort of like Sara for land folk. We were born at the same time. That's common for Biqaj, too. She had dark hair like us, and was just a bit taller than me. She was strong, and had a wicked smile. Her eyes weren't like mine. They color-changed, violet when she was happy--" He smiled momentarily as if at a memory. Then the smile faded. "Green when she was sad."

For a moment he seemed like he didn't know what to say, staring down at the necklace clasped in his hand, then, "Some bad things happened to her at the hand of pirates. I won't go into detail. It's painful to remember. It was my father's fault." At Tristan's expression, and at the sadness shared between them, he said softly, "I'm sorry. She died as a teenager. I'll never know what she would have been like had she lived. But I think she would have liked you. And your brother Theodore. She wasn't great at it, but she liked to sing."

---

If Quio was allowed to enter, it would not be so long before suddenly the mercenary was there again. Coming in through the kitchen. Reaching out a hand. "Don't!" Quio said, stepping further into the house, but it was too late. The woman's hand was on Tristan's shoulder, her other hand at the knife on her hip. "Leave him alone," the Yludih snarled, surprised himself by the ferocity he felt. Hart put a hand out to stop him rushing forward again. The doppelganger mutely shook his head. He was obviously afraid of what might happen should they intervene. The mercenary's threat was evident between them all.

"What do you want?" Hart eventually asked, sounding breathless.

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Tristan Venora]

“Jovy”, Tristan repeated the name of the sister he would never get to know and smiled. It was a smile that lacked warmth though, and it didn’t reach his eyes either. “It’s a pretty name. I’d like to visit her grave sometimes, if I’m allowed to”, he said in barely more than a whisper and looked at Hart abruptly. Prior to that trial he hadn’t thought that there was anything that had the potential of ruining his good mood so thoroughly, but for a moment he wondered if he’d ever be happy again. He had never lost a member of his family before, besides Zvezdana’s husband, but Veljorn barely counted in his opinion. He didn’t like the way it made him feel, so strangely empty inside.

And then he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He barely had time to wonder who was approaching him, whether maybe Ruq had decided to see what was taking Hart so long or Faith had come back earlier than planned before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around and tried to shake it off, but found that the woman‘s – for it was a woman that had snuck up on him – grip was surprisingly firm. I really should have learned some unarmed combat! he thought frustratedly. His gaze fell on the woman’s dagger, and he tensed.

“I don’t think so”, he informed her as she insisted that they had some business to discuss. “I’ve never met you before. So what do you really want?” Had this been any other trial he might have tried to flirt with her as he did with most women and might even have enjoyed that hostage situation – he had never been a hostage before and had always wondered what it would be like – but after finding out that he had had a sister once, he really wasn’t in the mood. “Do you want money? Some of my sculptures?” he asked. He just wanted to get it over with, and he wanted her to go away so that he could get drunk, be miserable and stuff himself with cookies until his stomach burst.

And then Quio walked in, quite suddenly and unexpectedly as far as Tristan was concerned (since he was not the most observant man he had absolutely no idea what the Yludih had done), and all the young noble could do was stare. What was the matter now?

[Yanahalqah]

Her threat did the trick, keeping both Biqaj and half-Biqaj at a distance. Fear was a powerful tool too. The bonds between people could be easily exploited. The doppelganger and his cohort had agreed to helping her on the condition that Yana wouldn't hurt him. A sure sign they held the man dear. The fact that they allegedly were twins helped too, of course. The Lord himself did not seem to be willing to attempt anything reckless in the near future either, almost freezing on the spot as he caught a glimpse of her weapons. Good.

Despite the pinch he was in though, Lord Venora still spoke with relative calm. He retorted, seemingly not understanding the inflection Yana had used when speaking of “business”, but she did not react. Instead, his words jogged her memory. No wonder she had had the feeling all people she'd been dealing with during her time at this house were vaguely familiar. Lord Venora had been aboard Ufrek's ship. Faith had been there too, of course, but the Yludih had decidedly avoided more interaction than was necessary with the woman, and hadn't paid close attention to her or the man she'd been hanging out with. It made sense that he was her master.

The doppelganger's companion too was no stranger. Yana had been able to identify him from the outset, though she had dismissed it as mere coincidence. Now though, she wasn't so sure anymore. Andaris was a big city on an even bigger island. Running into two individuals she'd met on a quest for the Immortals just a trial or four prior was statistically speaking insanely small in a huge city like this. It was almost impossible. This seemed to be beyond mere fortune or coincidence. Was this … fate? Destiny? It didn't matter at the moment, and she hid her emotions behind the blank mask that was her face.

“As I said,” Yana prepared to repeat herself, which she absolutely hated doing, “I'm here for business.” Her fingers relieved some of the pressure they put on his shoulder, loosening her grip ever so slightly. “But yes, in the end all comes down to money.” Her eye flicked towards the two others in the room, then to the cat that still was trying to desperately untangle itself, propelling its body over the floor with the one paw it had managed to free. “Here's the thing. There are quite a few people who feel they were wronged by you in one way or another, and naturally they want retribution. As you might be able to guess, they came to me.” She paused for a moment to let that sink in.

“If I tally everything up, I need to thoroughly break your jaw and fingers, beat you half to death twice, cut off your thumbs, carve or burn the word 'cheater' on your forehead, emasculate you and kill your cat.” While her conscience wasn't really caring about any of those things –she had accepted the requests after all-- she did believe that it would be a shame to kill the magnificent beast that Tristan Venora called his pet. To be honest, the client that had requested the death of the feline couldn't be called a respectable member of society, nor a man Yana could tolerate for very long, and he'd been speaking nonsense for the most part. His caretaker had clarified that while the man was high on painkillers, his request was genuine and would be compensated for. The caretaker had filtered most of the nonsense out of the babbling man's speech, translating it to the following.

“A couple trials ago I was drinking in the Blacksmith's Arms with some friends. Liquor flowed royally, and naturally we were all smashed. When taking a piss in an alleyway, that hellish beast Tristan Venora calls a cat showed up with a whole gang of his ilk. Naturally, I kicked at the hissing furball, but instead of scaring them off, they all attacked me, Tristan's cat leading the charge. The assault left me seriously mutilated. My dignity and manhood were taken from me.

Give Tristan Venora a taste of my wrath by killing his hellbeast, and robbing him of his Richard.

Completing this request will reward you with twelve Gold Nel and seventy-five experience points.”

Yana wasn't too sure what experience points were supposed to be, but ten gold nel wasn't too bad a sum for a simple task such as killing a cat, and making sure Tristan would never have sex again. After all, he was supposed to be weak and vulnerable.

“Now, I could absolutely go through with this and get my money. However, I might not be feeling up to ruining your life thoroughly... but that will cost you.” The Yludih ran a quick calculation through her head. “I will be getting sixty two gold nel by simply doing what my clients requested. Thus, to avoid this, you would have to pay me at least seventy gold nel.” Again, she let her words hang in the air to allow the Lord to absorb them fully. “Alternatively though, you could name what you absolutely don't want to happen to you. I will name a price, and if you pay it, I will conveniently forget about those requests. The others I will still complete though.”

She let her gaze wander to the other two and looked at them blankly. Perhaps they thought their presence would prevent her from doing what she'd announced. Perhaps they could, but Yana was not planning on showing doubt. Bluff was her weapon, and her pokerface would betray nothing. She appeared bored, as if she was used to doing this kind of stuff, and taking on three people was no real challenge. The fact that she had chosen to do this in front of them was meant to back this up. She hoped it was enough to keep them from getting any deeper involved. And if it didn't, she'd have to fight all of them. If she couldn't win she'd have to run, it was as simple as that.

If Tristan would call for guards, well, then the same would occur, no doubt. Not that she felt bother by being chased. Rayna Ramsey could disappear for an unlimited amount of time. As long as she could get away, the knights formed no threat. Better yet, she would be hiding among them. That was only if none of them were willing to cooperate though, and with her hand on her dagger, she was quite sure they would take the safe route. A small sum of seventy gold nel was nothing to a Lord, surely. Besides, mutilation did not have to take long. In the time it took for the knights to arrive, Yana could very well mess up Lord Venora's pretty face. And stab him more than once too.

In the end though, it all depended on the other three. They were in control of their own fate.

[Quio]

At once the adventure went from sort of peculiar to downright awful. The woman --"Bitch," Hart muttered under his breath, and Quio could only agree, hand snaking to his own dagger-- gave a laundry list of things she had been hired to do to Tristan-- the least of which were broken bones, and it only got worse from there.

As she named off torture after torture, Hart actually began to look angry. It was always hard to tell because he hid it very well, and nothing usually pinched his nerves like that. But when Quio glanced over, the seaborn was staring at the mercenary quite flatly. And he was holding very still.

Then before Quio's eyes Hart seemed to melt, drawing in a deep breath, and dragged his gaze away from the merc. He looked over at Quio, and sighed, asking, "How much money do we have?"

Right around seventy gold nels, last Quio had checked. Just about what the bastard woman wanted.

But, "No. We're not giving her anything," the Yludih said in a steely voice, and by the immortals was he stupid. He still had the split lip and bruises to prove he had tangled with a different mercenary not even a week ago. Why hadn't he started carrying around the sword he'd gotten from the ship after that?

If he had a larger weapon he might've lasted through this ordeal without his hands beginning to tremble.

Dammit all! He had been in fights before. He could handle himself well enough. But ever since the ship--

Ever since the ship, fighting of any type had frightened him. And he was afraid even more of his own anger.

Like the anger he felt now.

"Ruq," Hart was saying in a careful voice, "We have to appease her-- it's worth the money, this is Tristan we're talking about."

"I know," Quio said. "But we can't give her the money." He shot the merc a nasty look. "Because once we do, we have no guarantee she won't just come back later-- either to blackmail Tristan again, or to complete her disgusting 'work'." He spat the last word. Oh, but he hated pirates, and thugs and thieves were little better.

In his anger the Yludih had partially drawn the dagger from its sheath, and he forced himself to once more relax his grip.

He knew he was right, though. The woman couldn't be trusted. Not even if she gave her word. Especially not then. She had already gone back on that once.

It was a dilemma, one he feared he was too worked up to solve.

"Tristan," he eventually asked, and noticed that Hart had done what little he could, and stepped in between the merc and the cat-- one of her potential victims. "What do you want to do?"

How could they force the woman to deal with them honestly?

And even if they paid her now and she 'intended' to not bother the Venora again, there was still the matter of the vendetta her clients seemed to have against Tristan. Those wouldn't go away just from paying the woman to.

"I mean I guess we could kill her," he said evenly, and Hart looked over at him in shock. Quio shrugged. Trying to play it cool despite how his heartstone pounded and pounded. Watching the woman carefully. "I've killed before, under worse odds. It's three against one, and making an example of her would show the people coming after Tristan what happens to those who mess around with nobility." Though he was aware Tristan was still in the woman's grasp. Still in danger. Now the Yludih spoke to her directly. "Such a fight-- is that what you want? If you hurt him, I promise you, it's what you'll get."

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Ulehi"

[Tristan Venora]

“Oh“, Tristan made as Yana informed him that there were quite a few people that felt they had been wronged by him and furrowed his brow. “Did Peake Andaris send you then?” he wanted to know. “I made a naked sculpture of him once. I also made naked sculptures of a few other famous people.” He broke off abruptly, realizing that maybe he shouldn’t go into too much detail about that. Maybe she didn’t know everything that he had done yet. He looked at her dagger again, and a bit of sweat began to bead on his forehead. After that near fiasco on the journey to Ne’haer he really wasn’t fond of pointy objects anymore.

“Can you put this away please?” he asked her and gave her his best attempt at puppy dog eyes which wasn’t very good at all. Somehow his acting skill had left him together with most of his bravery. “I promise that I won’t try to run! What are you anyway? Some sort of mercenary or bounty hunter?” He looked at her even though he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know. And then she started mentioning all the things she had to do to him. His eyes widened, and his face took on a decidedly yellow tinge as if he were going to be sick. As she said ‘emasculate’, he immediately covered that certain place between his legs with his hands. He would not allow that. He still needed that part of his body. Faith needed it as well!

“I’m not a cheater! I only sleep with one woman at the moment!” he blurted out before he realized that she might not have meant it that way at all and that he really shouldn’t have added ‘at the moment’. He sighed and closed his eyes. When he had been a child, he had always closed his eyes when he wanted to be invisible. If he couldn’t see himself, nobody else could do so either, right? Maybe it would finally work this time!

As she said ‘kill your cat’ though, his eyes immediately shot open again though. “You will not kill Mistral!” he exclaimed and clenched his fists. He was just about to try and hit her out of sheer despair when she gave him a way out. He immediately put his fists down again. “You want money then?” he asked. His relief was nearly palpable. “Why didn’t you say that right away? I have a lot of money. I’ll give you a hundred golden nels. How does that sound? Or do you want more? I’ll give you whatever you want. Just … just please don’t kill my cat!”

His voice trembled as he said that, and his heart began to beat even faster. He couldn’t imagine life without Mistral. He loved him! He loved him more than most of his relatives! That cat meant the world to him!

As he noticed that Hart and Quio had begun to argue, he risked a look at them (he was worried that Yana would stab him if he moved too much) and pointed out, in case Hart and Quio had overlooked that very important fact, “She’s holding me, guys, and she has a weapon. If you try to kill her, it might not end well for me. I really like my body better without holes. I also don’t want to have to explain to the guards why there is a dead body in my house in case we win the fight. I really don’t want to involve them”, he claimed because he still just wanted to get it over with, although he was pretty sure that he would probably manage to free himself from her grasp by stepping on one of her feet and using the element of surprise if worse came to worst.

Having said that, he turned back to Yana. He suddenly looked much less confident. Reading about evil women breaking into a house and threatening to emasculate the owner (and killing his beloved pet!) was pretty exciting, but experiencing it yourself not so much. As he had realized on that suicide mission to Ne’hear he was definitely not a hero. His poor nose also still hurt a little (although having a broken nose made for a great conversation starter!).

“Will you promise to leave us alone, if I give you the money?” he asked. “We are three against one as he pointed out!” He gestured towards Quio, hoping that she would accept the easy way out and not try to take them on. He wasn’t as confident as Hart and Quio about the outcome of a possible fight. She looked very strong and sure of herself.

[Yanahalqah]

Things were going quite well, all things considered. For a moment Yana had believed she would have to act quickly and subdue all three of them when Tristan's voice rose and he exclaimed his displeasure when the Yludih mentioned killing his cat. However, as she increased her grip on his shoulder and explained her offer, the man calmed down and seemed extremely relieved. Tristan Venora was not going to be the problem here, Yana decided, believing the man to be more than willing to part with a decent sum of money if he could avoid mutilation.

The real problem would be the other two. Not only did the Biqaj, whom Yana now remembered as Ruq, propose rebellious acts such as not handing over any money, but he also made threats. Though she suspected them to be idle, a threat was a threat, and the man had managed to injure half of those who'd been on board during their Journey. Be it because of the transformation or because of his real strength, Yana did not know, but she was not going to act fazed. He claimed to have won fights with worse odds, and the Yludih let her gaze pierce him. “So have I,” she bluffed, voice and face unreadable and serious. Her hand yanked her dagger from its sheath, bringing it up to Lord Venora's throat. She did not change her grip on him, instead only digging her fingers deeper in his shoulder. If he tried to run he would not get far; she held his shirt as well as his flesh. If he tried to flee, Yana would change her grip on him, so she had her forearm below his chin, and his neck in the crook of her arm. The classic hostage hold. “I would be careful with what you say. It is not a good idea to test me.” The mercenary was ready to plunge her dagger into his chest at any moment, though not in a way that would kill him. He was worth nothing when dead.

Naturally, the Lord himself was quite concerned with his safety too, urging the others not to act rashly. Whether he was trying to win her trust and get her to let her guard down or not, it was an excellent suggestion. “Of course,” she purred, “for a hundred gold nel I will leave quietly and without complaint.” Though her voice had assumed a slightly softer tone of contentment, her face had not. “You bring me the money, and I leave without harming any of you. You have my word.”

Ah, but there was still one little problem, wasn't there? Her eye darted towards Ruq and Tristan's brother again, aware that one, if not both of them, would object. ”You doubt the worth of my word, I assume? How do you know you can trust me?” She did not wait for an answer. “You can never trust anyone, but let me say this: I don't break a deal sealed with a handshake without good reason.” A mischievous smile played around her lips for a brief moment as she returned her gaze to Ruq again. “We never sealed a deal. You did not seem to want me to.” She gave a light shrug, though she did not relax in the slightest. She would show no weakness during negotiations, nor give her opponent any opportunity to strike. Her dagger was still at the ready. One wrong move and Lord Venora's cries of pain would be muffled by her palm while she made a breathing hole in his chest.

“One hundred gold nels,” she repeated. “That's your easy way out. Else, well, are you willing to risk the Lord's life only to take mine? I would have that you consider your next actions carefully. Killing a man is a quick and easy task, I'm sure you know, Biqaj. But it does not need to end with a man found dead in his own home. The choice is yours.”